Part Five

At the Detroit Metro Airport the next day there was still one surprise for Michelle, though it was a minor one.

"'Victoria'?" said Michelle, looking over Vic's shoulder as her wife checked their luggage. "Oh, right; you changed it when we got married. I'm so used to everyone just calling you 'Vic' I forgot."

"Yielding as gracefully as I can to the inevitable," said Vic, a bit pompously.

The trip was almost entirely first class, with the short exceptions being that the couple was seated in coach for the first leg, from Detroit to Atlanta, and in... something else for the last leg, from the African mainland to the island. Exactly what their ride would be on that final part of the flight Vic hadn't been able to determine ahead of time. Except to learn that they would be on a UN military transport which they would board at N'djili Airport. Fortunately for their comfort, all the long flight across the Atlantic had them seated in the frontmost row.

As they settled in at the front of the cabin for the long leg of the trip after their first plane change, Vic leaned back in her heavily padded seat with a sigh of satisfaction. After a moment, however, she turned to her wife, wanting to make conversation before takeoff.

"One of the other Feds in the office building where I work heard about my trip and asked if I was going to go see the _Silbervogel_," said Vic. "You know; where they put it in that South African aerospace museum a couple of decades after it landed after taking off from Germany, near the end of WWII. Fortunately, titanium and stainless steel weather well."

"That's nowhere close to where we're going," said Michelle, confused.

"Took me the longest time to get him to understand that Africa is a whole continent, with several countries. That we would be three thousand klicks from the nation of South Africa."

"Then he asked you what a kilometer was," said Michelle, smirking.

"Pretty much, yeah... Then he wanted to know if we'd be seeing the Rock of Gibraltar."

"Ow..."

"I wasn't actually surprised. This guy doesn't understand that there's a difference between Austria and Australia. He's in the local federal office which oversees international trade for the Detroit area, too."

* * *

The nineteen hour trans-Atlantic flight was routine to the point of being boring. Fortunately, both Michelle and Vic were able to sleep much of the way. This was made easier by a large part of the flight occurring at night.

The last leg of their trip turned out to be on an elderly United Nations C-130, though they did not learn that until after they exited the long-range airliner, the next morning. Their UN T.O.W.E.R. contact met them with an electric cart as they got off the trans-Atlantic jet, still in the international section of N'djili Airport.

"Mrs. and Mrs. Peltior?" said the man wearing the distinctive T.O.W.E.R. uniform, as he offered his hand. He had a pleasant, middle-class English accent. "I'm Lieutenant Carl Spivak. Since you're going straight to a UN controlled island you can skip DRC customs. Your luggage is already being loaded on our transport. Which I will be happy to take you to."

"If that's your cart," said Michelle, shaking his hand. "We will go gladly!"

"We're both well-rested but pretty stiff after that long flight," said Vic, also taking the offered hand. "We aren't sure where to go from here, either. So a ride and a knowledgable guide are definitely appreciated."

The Lieutenant loaded their carry-on luggage onto the small, electric-powered transport, helped them in, then took the driver's seat. Thanks to him, the pair from the United States only had to briefly show their IDs, at the entrance to the section of the airport reserved by the UN, instead of being stuck at customs trying to explain Vic's armor, specially equipped bicycle and martial arts weapons.

"There's also a problem that same-sex marriage is illegal in this nation," said Spivak, casually but quietly, as the small vehicle pulled out onto the reserved section of the tarmac and headed for a hangar clearly marked UN. Outside of the air-conditioned building the Sun beat down on them, and they quickly became hot. "It's somewhat possible that, once they realized you two are a couple, a disapproving airport employee could have deliberately misdirected you out of the international part of the airport, in the hopes of getting you into trouble with DRC law enforcement."

"Not that, again," said Vic, voice almost a growl.

"Yes, unfortunately," said the Lieutenant, nodding.

"Dear, I hate to tell you, but there's a lot of people back home with the same attitude," said Michelle, hugging Vic. "Some of them influential."

"No-one warned us!" said Vic, startled and scandalized. "I mean, about the law, yes, but not that foreigners just passing though..."

"Our own regulations prevent us from taking any notice of sexual orientation. In guests or employees. However, someone happened to notice the situation with you two and - since it was already planned to have someone meet you at your arrival gate - made the arrangements much more proactive. Here we are."

The mid-ranking T.O.W.E.R. officer took them to a somewhat worn-looking C-130 currently parked just outside the front entrance to the United Nations hangar. There, Michelle, Vic and their carry-on luggage were first taken inside and upstairs before they were led down a jetway and loaded onto the four-engined turboprop plane. They were assured by the ground crew that their checked luggage was already aboard.

"Seems a bit wasteful to have this whole plane just for us," said Vic, as she and Michelle fastened the four-point harnesses for the sideways bench seats on one side of the plane.

"Oh, we have nearly a full load," said Lieutenant Spivak, smiling, as he likewise took his position, on the opposite side of the fuselage from the couple. "Of cargo, anyway."

Takeoff was a bit noisy but uneventful. Soon they were out over the ocean.

"The UN owns the whole island," their escort explained, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise of propellors and turbines, as the plane banked on approach to their destination. Their destination now became visible on ocean through the windows on Spivak's side of the plane. "Eventually the airport there will be upgraded to take even the largest aircraft, so we won't have to go through the DRC. However, for now only aircraft requiring little or no runway length or which can use unprepared ground are able to land and take off. There are several facilities on the island which have already been refurbished and made habitable, and have subsequently been assigned to different agencies with the UN. T.O.W.E.R. has been placed in the largest set of buildings so far repaired, at least in terms of useable floor space under the fewest roofs. That's all of the central luxury resort hotel, the connected convention hall and casino and several other buildings in that complex. We all - all the UN forces on Roosevelt Island - share the airport and many other facilities."

From the air the unfinished resort looked impressive, even beautiful, though the landscape was obviously largely artificial. Also obvious was that the work had stopped well before the landscaping had been completed, and that no work had been done for several years. Their guide pointed out numerous features as the plane circled. Then, as the C-130 lined up for the main runway of the small airport, Spivak made sure Vic and Michelle were well secured. Again shouting a bit to be heard over the ambient noise, he continued relating the history and current state of the island. Vic realized he was doing this at least in part to take their minds off the approach and landing.

"Work on the resort was begun by Joseph-Désiré Mobutu while he was the self-appointed president of Congo, but was soon put on hold. In part due to legal challenges over which nation actually owned the island. After the addition of more territory to his country and a name change to Zaire the project resumed. His idea was to make a playground for the rich and famous, a west African version of the French Riviera. This in spite of the fact that he later moved politically towards Communist China and claimed he was anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist. After Mobutu was deposed the task was pursued - sporadically - by some of his successors. None of them got very far with the project. Since the work was never finished, just how successful the resort would have been commercially is a matter for speculation. As for Mobutu, he died of prostate cancer in Morocco a few months after fleeing Zaire.

"Which was ironic, considering that one of the projects most nearly finished on the island before he was kicked out was a hospital which would have offered new treatments not yet approved in other countries. He supposedly even offered sanctuary to several mad doctors so they could advance their work.

"The beaches are beautiful, but artificial. Without constant maintenance they are being eroded away."

"That was an impressive amount of work," said Michelle, also half shouting to be heard over the ambient noise.

"The island was also claimed by the Cabinda province of Angola, but with that province's status already being disputed the claim wasn't pursued very far," Lieutenant Spivak continued. "Also, the island is far from shore and was originally desolate, so they didn't protest much when Mobutu took it over. They did fuss a bit when he began building the resort. After he was gone Cabinda again forgot about it. Until the UN bought the facility from the Democratic Republic of Congo three years ago. Then we also had to buy it from Cabinda, just to avoid a protracted disagreement over the ownership!

"Anyway, the climate is tropical warm and dry, only marginally wet enough to avoid being classed as a hot, semi-arid climate."

The plane was now descending towards the runway. Their escort went silent, though he looked at the pair of women and meaningfully tugged his restraints tighter. Vic and Michelle followed his example.

The landing, fortunately, was uneventful.

* * *

The passengers and crew had to use a portable stairway to debark, since the jetways had never been installed at the unfinished airport. The air, as promised, was hot and dry, but distinctly smelled of the ocean. Vic could see rolls of hot air coming up from the concrete. The plane's crew entered an older but well-cared for, UN-marked car but Lieutenant Spivak seemed to be waiting for something. The duo from Detroit waited with him, with their carry-on luggage.

As several soldiers unloaded the plane onto a couple of trucks, a staff car - only slightly newer than the one which the C-130 crew had entered and also in excellent condition - rolled to a stop near Spivak, Michelle and Vic. A high-ranking officer exited and approached the trio. Lieutenant Spivak snapped to attention and saluted.

"Michelle and Victoria Peltior, this is Major Houston Lee. Major, these are our guests."

The Major was surprisingly youthful in appearance, with close-cropped dark blond hair and an athlete's build. He smiled a bit stiffly as he greeted the two guests.

"Welcome to Roosevelt Island," said the Major, extending his hand to the newcomers. "Purchased by the United Nations in July of 2019, and named after Franklin Roosevelt."

"Major Lee is one of the products of the UN's super creation program," said Lieutenant Spivak, as Lee shook hands with the civilians. "He has minor physical enhancements and the ability to 'ignore' obstacles over short distances. For example, he can pass items through closed windows."

"I am very much looking forward to participating in your training sessions," said the Major, grinning. "Duties permitting, of course. Though just now international super criminal activity seems to be in decline, so I should be available."

"You had to jinx it," said Vic, rolling her eyes. Fortunately, the Major gave a short but apparently sincere laugh.

"If you come this way, you can ride with me to the hotel," said Major Lee, with a gesture towards his staff car. "The Lieutenant will see to your luggage."